


(truths) and lies

by Dachi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Katsuki Yuuri, But he makes it work, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Contemporary Dancers AU, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this with a fever ok? forgive me, I'll add tags if you want me to, Light Angst, M/M, Vicchan Lives, Yuuri struggles, aged-down characters, but not realy??, sort of character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi/pseuds/Dachi
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki does not like to be looked down on.Yuuri Katsuki likes video games.Yuuri Katsuki does not like attention.Yuuri Katsuki likes to be looked at.Yuuri Katsuki does not like to be seen. (but he does)Yuuri Katsuki likes to eat. A lot.Yuuri Katsuki does not like tonotbe in control.Yuuri Katsuki likes to laugh.Yuuri Katsuki does not like physical touch. (he isstarved)Yuuri Katsuki likes girls.Yuuri Katsuki does not like boys. (this is alie)Or: In which Yuuri thought he knew himself, until someone made him know himself better.





	(truths) and lies

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very firs fic and it didn't go as I intended. I wanted a cute, simple and wholesome story about high school students falling in love. Instead I present you a complicated mess. But I am proud of this mess.  
I tried a different writing style than most and added a sparkle of poetry to it; I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it.  
My eternal thanks to [Sandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriefirefly/pseuds/faeriefirefly) for showing me how to AO3 and betaing ~~more like editing level god~~ this. Without her you guys would be reading a incomprehensible wall of text, so thank her too xD. Go read her works, she is definetly a better writer than I am!  
And last but not least, thanks to [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzuhi) for being the cheer I needed and pushed me to shove down my fear and write The Thing. I wanted you to take a look first, but now I want it to be a surprise. She has an amazing Hiroko fic and I encourage you guys to read it. 
> 
> That's it! Happy read!

Yuuri Katsuki has never been one for conversations. 

When he was young, his sister Mari would pull the weirdest, most ridiculous pranks on him just so he would react, say, _ express _ something. 

He never blamed her, never got mad at her; Yuuri always knew that she just didn't understand. 

She stopped when she was twelve and he was ten and held his _ everything _ in those little hands. She had found the red notebook full of sticky notes purely on accident (that is what she thought) but never once did Yuuri try to take it away from her when he saw her with it.

‘She understands now’, Yuuri thought when he saw her smiling while looking at him dancing in that dusty yet very well cared for room that he refused to leave for most hours of the day. 

He was not one for conversations, no, but he was one for _ words _ and dancing. 

(She never saw her brother sneakily placing the notebook under her laundry, and he would never tell her.)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki does not like to be looked down on.

He realized this the for the first time when his contemporary dance instructor stared at him from his chair while all the students were most likely dying from exhaustion. The instructor’s eyes were full of ‘Not good enough’, ‘Is this all you have?’ and ‘I’ve seen better.’ So Yuuri stood up and tried and fell and got back up, because Yuuri knew himself well (that’s what he likes to think) and he was not one for self-confidence, but he was not a _ quitter _. 

“Again,” said a demanding voice carrying the command from the door of the ballet studio. Yuuri only had a moment to catch his breath before he met the gaze of the woman who had turned him into someone incapable of saying “I can’t anymore.”

He locked his eyes with hers for what felt like hours before he nodded and got back up.

“I believe I have taught you better than this,” said Minako in a soft-yet-cold tone. The academy’s director never spoke sweetly to her students, and Minako having known Yuuri since he was a baby wasn't going to change that fact. 

“You have.” His reply was barely audible, the sounds of heavy breathing filling the room. 

“Then show me,” she said as she took a seat next to his instructor. ‘Trust,’ Yuuri thought to himself, but also a _ challenge _. 

Yuuri turned his gaze to his instructor. _ Pity _, he found in those black pools. 

Something heavy and thick set in Yuuri’s gut. He didn’t know what it was and he didn’t care; he only knew that he didn’t ever want to feel it again. 

(so he would show them)

(and he showed them)

(And for the rest of the day, he never fell.)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki likes video games. 

He noticed this when his friend Yuuko invited him over to play the latest Pokemon game in the market. He liked how he could have a good time without having to talk too much, share too much, _ open up _ too much. 

He also liked how the 5:00 PM sun would create a rainbow-like halo around her small, thin frame. Eyes sparkling with joy and a smile so bright that he didn’t know what was brighter, her smile or the screen. 

Yuuri tells himself, ‘It’s ok, it will be ok,’ when he sees his other friend, Takeshi, look at her with a feeling that could be described as a tight guitar string about to snap.

(It was not ok for a while.)

Yuuri Katsuki liked girls. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki does not like attention. 

He tried really hard to act like he hadn’t noticed the blue eyes that had been following him ever since the first day. 

Viktor Nikiforov was not someone he wanted to deal with since _ then _. 

(He doesn’t want to think of the why of that.)

So he doesn’t. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki did not like attention.

He really, really did not. 

So why did he find himself wanting _ his _?

He didn’t know.

(He knew why.)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s a story:

He met Viktor at the academy when he was shivering ball of nerves and anxiety.

He was glad his mom accepted his hobbies and fully supported his decision of joining a ballet school, but some part of him had expected a negative. “Comfort zone”, they called it. Yuuri called it peace of mind. (he is hiding)

He wasn’t good at making friends, and when only five minutes had passed, he was already making plans of going back to Minako’s office and stay there for the rest of the class. 

“First class is always scary,” said a sslim, silver-haired boy. He had eyes bluer than the ocean he got to admire every day from his room (he loved the ocean), beautiful features that screamed he was a foreigner and the friendliest, sweetest smile he had ever encountered. “I’m Viktor, and you?” he asked.

‘Waves. I can hear the waves.’ After a moment of hesitation (he was breathless), he whispered, “Yuuri.” 

“Yuuri.” Viktor said his name like a prayer, like a rose that had to be touched with the utmost care, like his name alone was all he ever needed and all he would ever need. 

(say it again)

“Stay close and I’ll help you, Yuuri.”

(never stop saying my name)

He got a blue notebook that day. 

(He dreams of blue that night.)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I heard they met up at the back of the sch—”

“No, no. It was in the dark alley next to the convenience store.”

“Was it? Either way, do you think it’s true?”

Yuuri flinched and hid himself even more inside the restroom stall. He knew who they were talking about. He knew who, what, where, when and how long. What he didn’t know was if he wanted to be the next _ “I heard…” _

He waited until they were gone, got out of the restroom stall and walked towards the locker room. He took his blue notebook out of his bag and wrote until morning became night and he finally stopped feeling like he wanted to cry. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s another story:

When Yuuri saw Viktor stand tall in the middle of the ballet studio, he saw how he wanted to _ feel _. 

When Yuuri saw Viktor dance, he saw what he wanted to _ be _.

When Yuuri saw Viktor laugh at the end of the performance, he saw what he wanted to _ have _.

And when Yuuri saw Viktor kiss another boy in a dirty alley, wind blowing a foul smell full of rotten food and _ secrets _ and _ betrayal _ and _ why why why... _

Realization didn’t come to him like it does to most people, kicking down doors or hitting like a truck. No, realization was a soft whisper in his ear, reminding him of something that was there but had been ignored.

When Yuuri saw Viktor kiss another boy that wasn’t _ him _ , he saw the part of him he _ feared _.

(he buried the memory _ deep deep deep _)

Yuuri Katsuki does not like boys. 

(he is scared of himself)

.

.

.

.

Spot the lie.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri:

Liked the burn and ache his muscles felt after every practice, every dance.

Wasn’t shy.

Had never really been in love.

Was insecure.

Never liked when his sister took his things without telling him. 

Was caring.

Was brave.

But he:

Wanted to _ talk _, badly. 

Was jealous.

Was hurt.

Wanted blue drowning eyes; delicate, silky, silver-jewel hair; and smooth, tender rose-petal lips.

And all that? That was new.

_ A challenge. _

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki likes to be looked at.

But he liked it more if he was being looked at by _ him _.

As the music echoed through the studio he found himself lost in the movements. The floor was a piece of paper and he was a pen inking with his dancing what he so desperately wanted to say. As he tried to convey all his emotions and questions and needs; as he reached and got close and grasped; as he quietly (not really) screamed for help to anyone willing to _ listen _; he only thought of one thing: ‘You’d better be looking at me.’ 

When he opened his eyes and saw the intense, raging storm in blue ocean waters, he said just one thing, “_ Only _ look at me”.

(and the boy listened)

(he always listened)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s the thing: Yuuri Katsuki can’t find his notebook.

Here’s another: Last time he remembers using it was at the studio. In class.

His notebook was full of his words, thoughts and emotions that together created a language that embodied who Yuuri Katsuki was. (and really, who was he?)

His secrets—his only secret—could be read, known, with just a flip of a page. 

Yuuri did not remember the last time he cried (this is a lie, the smell of rotten fish a constant reminder of that last time), but the feeling of surging wet warmth running down his face like two silent-yet-deadly snakes made him realize that it had been a long time since he’d broken down this hard. 

His anxiety filled his mind with panicking, hurtful thoughts and ‘Oh god, what if he reads, what if he _ sees _ ? He wouldn’t understand, I don't even understand _ it _ myself.’ 

Yuuri Katsuki does not like to be _ seen _.

(but he needed to)

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki likes to eat. A lot. 

That is a fact.

He does not eat that night. Or the next. Or the next.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki does not like to _ not _ be in control.

It had been left behind in a studio full of memories.

His mind was spinning—‘How could you be so stupid?’— and his breathing was ragged and he could feel himself

F

A

L

L

I

N

G

.

.

.

He remembered certain day in certain studio.

_ ”Show me” _

And he did.

‘You are stronger than this,’ said a voice that sounded like his own.

He was.

‘Never again, remember, Katsuki? Don’t you dare look down on yourself.’

He looked in the mirror, took a big, deep breath.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days later, Yuuri entered the studio with his head held high, expecting judging stares and whispers and “Did you hear”s. 

‘Show them.’

But he got nothing. (the reality is, he forgot about them)

Instead, he got a chocolate bar, placed carefully on top of his blue (beautifully blue) notebook inside his locker and a single sticky note. 

In an elegant, exquisite, yet sloppy handwriting was the following:

Did you know that your eyes are the same color as the richest, loveliest chocolate ever made? 

Now you know.

And now I _ know _.

Yuuri Katsuki likes to eat. A lot.

That is a fact.

And chocolate was now his favorite candy.

Also a fact.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sticky note.

Dogs. I love dogs. Have you seen them? Especially poodles. I have a poodle, her name is Makka. She would love you.

A reply. 

Really? I have one too. His name is

Or not.

Yuuri, cheeks blood red, ripped the sticky note and shoved it into his pocket.

“Hey!” Viktor said from where he was stretching. “That’s not fair! What were you going to say?”

Shaking his head and ignoring the question, Yuuri grabbed another sticky note and wrote, 

I would love to meet her, I bet she is as cute as her owner

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, took Viktor’s hand and put the note in his palm.

(if Viktor noticed how Yuuri’s hand lingered in his, he couldn't tell)

(if Yuuri noticed how Viktor squeezed his hand ever so lightly, he wouldn’t tell) 

In hindsight, the new note might’ve been even more embarrassing than the original, but the pink-like-sunset cheeks and heart-shaped smile, overflowing with awe, that he got in return made him forget any thought of doubt he could’ve had. Yuuri laughed. In the not-so-cute way but the _ freeing _ way, the way that makes you question why you haven’t laughed like this before and how you survived until now without this feeling.

Yuuri Katsuki liked to laugh. But he likes to make Viktor smile more. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever been scared of yourself?

Yes.

What part?

Feelings. I feel too much, Yuuri. I _ am _ too much. People don’t like things they cannot deal with.

Yuuri’s hand moved on its own.

When I’m with you, I feel like it’s ok. Like it’s ok if I’m scared. Like it’s ok if people look and talk and judge. Like it’s ok to run away because you would find me. Like... it’s ok if I let you in...

Viktor caressed Yuuri’s arm, sliding his palm down until he held his hand and slowly, very slowly, took the pen away from shaking fingers. “Then let me.” 

Yuuri stilled when he felt the touch, his breath half in and half out when he heard the voice. He looked up and saw that Viktor was mere centimeters from him, table and plates full with katsudon the only things separating them. 

Something inside him _ begged _ ‘please please please’ like a man that had been drowning and was offered a breath of fresh air. Light blue scanned dark brown, hoping and searching and finally _ seeing _.

(he had always been)

‘I’m here. I’ve been here.’ Yuuri’s soul cried.

“Please,” was the only thing Yuuri muttered before cold lips met hot lips. 

Yuuri Katsuki does not like to _ not _ be in control. (this is a half truth)

He gave up any sense of control he had to Viktor. He let himself be consumed and filled and found and accepted and _ himself _. 

Yuuri Katsuki liked to think he knew himself. Ever since Viktor, he’s learned that he didn’t know a thing.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki is learning. 

You see, he has never considered himself inexperienced. He had a girlfriend or two, learned what it was like to be a half of a whole. 

Viktor Nikiforov was a force he could never have prepared for. (he loved him)

Viktor liked tea with a hint of jam.

Viktor liked romance and action equally.

Viktor liked to bring Yuuri’s mom flowers every time he visited.

(He loved him)

Viktor liked to give him a kiss on the nose every morning.

Viktor did not like the fact that Yuuri kissed better, so he would practice on him and beg, “Yuuri, just once more,”’ until, “Nope, I don’t quite get it. Gotta try again.” And Yuuri would let him. 

(He loved him)

Viktor liked to have long conversations late at night.

(He loved him)

Viktor liked to dance, but he liked to dance with Yuuri more.

(He loved him)

Viktor did not like the fact that Yuuri probably liked Makka more than him. (this is a lie)

He loved him.

Viktor liked to sing and eat and laugh and cry and pout and hug and Viktor also liked Yuuri.

Yuuri Katsuki is learning; learning to be honest with himself. (about time)

And Yuuri Katsuki loved Viktor Nikiforov.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuuri Katsuki does not like physical touch. 

This was true.

A bigger truth:

Yuuri Katsuki loved Viktor’s touch.

Viktor showed him just how _ starved _ he was. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry for—”

“No,” Yuuri cut him off. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I was confused. I thought you didn’t like boys and it hurt so bad—”

“I know,” Yuuri said as he tightened his arms around his new everything.

“It didn’t work,” Viktor whispered, his voice nasal and torn and guilty. “It made me love you even more.”

They kissed and cuddled and connected.

“_ I _ am _ yours _, Vitya. I have always been and forever will be.” Yuuri kissed the crown of Viktor’s head.

Yuuri Katsuki is learning about himself; about Viktor too. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here are some truths: 

Yuuri Katsuki is now 24 and his favorite color is blue.

Yuuri Katsuki is getting married.

Yuuri katsuki will open a dance school.

Yuuri Katsuki touches his fiance every time he can.

Yuuri Katsuki told Viktor his dog’s name.

Yuuri Katsuki talks and listens and looks and laughs and cries.

Yuuri Katsuki doesn’t always have control, and he’s ok with that.

Yuuri Katsuki likes to eat, a lot, and loves chocolate and every single dish Viktor cooks for him, a lot.

Yuuri Katsuki is not one for conversations, but he is one for words and dancing and touching and _ showing _.

Here are some others: 

Yuuri Katsuki likes girls.

Yuuri Katsuki likes boys.

Yuuri Katsuki likes himself. And that is his biggest truth.

**Author's Note:**

> If you got to this point, thank you so, soooo much. I love you.


End file.
